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He gave me a lopsided grin. “When’s the last time you used it?”
“When I lived in the States. I left it in a storage unit when I moved to England.”
Steven grinned. “Yeah, see. Computers don’t really last very long. They’re like new cars. They depreciate the moment you take them home.”
“I think he likes you,” Nana Pratt said. “You should date him.”
I shot the ghost a silencing look.
“This is a big house. You could fit a dozen children in here.”
I ignored her for the sake of my blood pressure. “Can I get you a cup of tea? I’m sorry, but I don’t have coffee in the house.”
His eyes widened. “How do you function in the morning?”
“Tea has caffeine.”
“Not enough. What have you got against coffee?”
“Nothing. I’ll drink it on occasion, but it isn’t my go-to.”
He stared at me for a long beat. “Huh,” he finally said. “Is that some sort of diet thing?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Do I seem like someone who should be on a diet?”
“Oh, dear,” Nana said, wringing her hands. “He didn’t mean to insult you.”
“No, not at all,” Steven said. “You look like you work out.”
“I don’t have to work out. Manual labor takes care of it for me.” I twirled the hammer in the air.
“I’ll have that tea, unless you’ve changed your mind. Granny Higgins used to make me tea when I was sick.”
“Oh, sure. Extoll the virtues of that dreadful woman right in front of me,” Nana Pratt moaned.
“It isn’t a competition,” I whispered to her.
“Of course it is!”
I walked past Steven into the kitchen and filled the kettle. “What’s the prognosis?”
Steven reclaimed his seat at the table. “Honestly, I’m not sure this is fixable, but I’ll give it my best shot.”
I turned on the gas and swiveled to face him. “Let me try a few passwords.”
His hands were poised to type, but there was no way I was sharing that information, even if it failed to work. I bumped him off the chair and made a few guesses. The last one worked.
“Have you always been this suspicious of people?” he asked, returning to the seat.
“I don’t think it’s unreasonable to keep my password private. It’s a basic security measure.”
“And a single woman can never be too careful,” Nana Pratt added, not that her grandson could hear her.
Steven typed on the keyboard and the screen went berserk. “Did you spill something on the keyboard?”
“If I did, it happened years ago.”
He opened his leather bag and retrieved a little bottle with a pump mechanism. He proceeded to use it to blow air around the keys. “Do you miss London?” he asked.
